


Ficlet Friction: Mostly Smut

by SinOfCats



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Control, Deepthroating, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mmm Horns, Older man, Shameless Smut, Smut, Voyeurism, gross old men being gross, vaguely Hot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinOfCats/pseuds/SinOfCats
Summary: Probably just smut with odd couples that I'm upset don't exist.
Relationships: Gereon Alexius/Halward Pavus, Halward Pavus/Iron Bull, Halward Pavus/Male Lavellan
Kudos: 3





	1. Silence (Bull/Halward)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Smut, Where Halward Pavus is recruited to Skyhold. The Iron Bull gives same offer them as he does to everyone, a chance to relieve tension, an open door. Dorian's already smooching on that handsome Inquisitor, but The Iron Bull can still get his hands on another damaged 'Vint.

Kneeled between their legs, hands rested on rough stone, knowing they rather he not touch, it would only remind them of where they were. Lips level with stiff heat, patient, waiting, electricity sparking under awaiting skin, eager and parting with a breath, he waits for delicate hands to guide him. Smooth and untarnished with the aches labor, all their wounds held within, surprisingly gentle, a light touch on the head, fingers linger over skin, trailing to the dense, thick horns at either side of his skull. He can hear their breath, so perfectly paced despite the race of their blood. They give the gentlest of tugs, a slight pull that guides him from the base of his horns. He accepts them, taking their warmth in to his waiting lips, encompassing them in slick heat within seconds. 

This is when their breath slips, a long exhale, relief, he glances up to see their lips part, their eyes closed, fingers carefully gripping tighter on the base of his keratin. He lets them enjoy the moment, to soak it in, wondering when last their needs were met, when it wasn't out of obligation or bitter entanglement. He swirls his tongue around the base, the large, flat muscle curving around it so naturally. That earns another stuttering of breath. The man before him so used to control that even minor slip felt like small conquests. 

He continues to work his tongue, their hands satisfied to leave his mouth full, fingers stilled and lightly grasping at his horns as the flat of his tongue strokes along the base of their heat. He coaxes it, licks it, drawing in long strokes, flicking over the tip, feeling twitch in response between his lips. Usually he would be unnerved by the lack of sounds, wanting confirmation of his lover's pleasure, but now he listens for the lack of it, for when breath stops, stills, stuttering to point where even the most practiced breath quiets to the fluttering tightness in the pit of their stomach. 

He rolls his tongue over the head, greedily drinking in the pearling slick as it coats over the warm and welcoming surface, making a deep moan in appreciation. That had their hands twitch, feather light touches tracing back over his head, along the divots of deep scars, it was almost a caress and as his gaze rises again, he could see the honeyed umber staring down at him. It was that same look of judging, eyes sharp, but curious, watching his intent with the clarity of an unhindered man. It sent a shiver down his spine, drawing out a muffled groan from his throat, a deep whine, as his eye met theirs, half lidded, presenting himself pliant. This pleases them, or seems to, their touch tracing down to the high of his cheekbone. Always light, barely there, the slightest rewards for his efforts. 

He closes his eye and rumbles deep in his chest, add vibration as he laps and swirls the warmth of his tongue around the silken shaft, catching fringe of the head with curling flick. This spurs their breath, a short, sharp breath that silences them, a moment where their lungs didn't move, then longer, quicker draws of air, trying to even out again. They couldn't, the new rhythm was set, his lips inches from the base, head grazing the breach of his throat, they were close.  
He feels the pulse as he pulls at the skin with his hollowed cheeks, unable to shift or move, or bob, instead he sucks at the head, long laps now pressing them to the roof of his mouth, swallowing around their heat, inviting them in with a soft groan. His eye flutters open to watch their expression, the deep color that sunk into their already golden dark skin. Their gaze was still on him, honeyed umber shaded, darkened in lust that he could see they thought debaucherous. 

Their chest now heaves with long drawn breaths, kept even, kept in control, except that was all appearance. Their lips parted, puffs of steam on their breath like smoke, their body had heated, sparks of ethereal magic burning in their lungs. Their thumbs smooth up his brow, along his skull, almost coaxing his eye to close again, but he watches as their grip tightens, thin fingers wrapping around the base of his horns. Even then, they're still gentle, their heat pulsing, stiff, pre readily spilling on the back of his tongue, but they pull with barely a touch, and he opens up for them. 

Breathing through his nose, he waits as they're the one that slowly pulls him over, easing the head in his throat with one, long, gliding motion that gives him moments to resist if it became too much. But he doesn't, letting them sink in to the hilt, lips wrapped around the base, nose pressed to their skin, face buried between their lean, sinewy thighs. His horns likely resting on top. He swallows around them, throat constricting to the flesh, trying to guide them deeper, into his slightly distended throat. 

A broken breath is his reward and he doubles in, swallowing their length, tongue running along every inch of the shaft that he could still reach. Hands smoothed over his scalp, stroking back against the grey skin, their legs settled wide on either side begin to tense. It was like petting, but growing more fervent, stroking him, coaxing him, as toes curled and breath stopped, hands gripping, nails lightly digging in. 

That's all the warning he got before the man in front of him was keening in, heat pulsing with an almost delicate, breathy gasp. He couldn't taste it, but he felt the heat glide through his throat, settling deep in his stomach, swallowing with each pulse. The hands loosening gradually, resting on his scalp, flat. He glances up, they're looking down, at him, not in that sharp manner of before. Their eyes are lidded, lips soft, untensed, letting out soft breaths. Their fingers stroke around the base of his horns, almost tenderly. He was something to ground them, keep them here in this moment, as the aftershocks settle. His lips were still around them, head still in his throat as it began to soften. 

He breathes through his nose, easy and paced, gaze still patiently on the man, waiting. It's minutes before they catch their breath, or are willing to acknowledge where they are and what they've done, but if there was guilt or shame, they didn't show it. With a soft touch that had grown familiar, the dark hands ease him back as they slowly fall from his lips. Another gentle touch, a small stroke between their horns as they stand. They step around him, the sound of shifting clothes telling him it's over, but he waits, still in place, hands rested on cold stone. There's hesitance by the door, a moment of lingering, he listened for the silence.


	2. Continue (Gereon/Halward)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexius/Halward a bit of surprise voyeurism.  
> Technically some Halward/Lavellan

It starts with an invitation to the Pavus residence. Nothing that unusual. Gereon being ally of Halward's and daresay, long standing friend since befor his wife.   
He was greeted at the door by a servant rather than the man, a formal touch to such a casual engagement. Usually they'd speak at length on politics, take tea in the parlor, instead he was lead back to an office he had perhaps seen twice, once exchanging documents and another time when the ser Pavus in residence had been far old, and the both of them far younger.

"Trying for new scenery, or has Aquinea tired of hearing your voice?" He smiles, taking the seat across as they leveled him with a gaze too serious, always too serious. 

"The latter." A voice so stiff and formal, that it left Gereon amused, and smirking watching how they folded the hands over the desk, their dark gaze on him and so sharply focused. Curious. 

"So politics?" He smirks, poaching the next words so casualy into smooth transition. "You did see the bill I was pushing. The notiery and board seem rather reluctant to follow through, it would surprise me though, the coffers that would go to city improvement and circle integrity are likely lining their deep pockets." A scoff as he tilts his head off, but strangely he's met with silence.   
His gaze slides over to Halward, flicks to where their hands clench the edge of the desk and suddenly loosens as he perks a brow to them. "And what of your ventures, _Pavus?_ " A light tease of formality.

The stiff man, usually quiet, but not usually as to be silent, took a moment, a hesitation. A quick breath that was held as their voice evened, "Unfortunately, I'm not as adventurous or altruistic as you. So you might find a push for militia incorporation to be below your intrigue."

"True." He smiles even as it earns him a scowl from man that acts far too old, "But entertain me with anyway." 

A sigh, one that may have lasted too long and caught the eye of the man across. Halward doesn't notice or ignores the gaze, "As always there are difficulties, purists, nationalists, and frankly cultist, who disagree with the outsourced use of untested military officers. Beyond that, they don't want to mix, as if elf blood would taint theirs if spilt on the same fields." Their hands clench desk again, breath tight as he continues, "Its ludicrous how they'd rather more Tevinter men die than let a few sets of militia pad out the thinning armies."

The motion didn't escape Gereon, and he woukd have tossed it off as the a moment of political passions if this wasn't the second time it occured. "Are you alright?" The tone of concern not lost on the other man's expression.

 _"I-"_ More breath than word, shoulders tense, lungs hitch, the desk creaking under their grip. 

He watches as their knuckles pale, a soft sound and his gaze flicks to the desk. He stands, slowly trailing his steps around, uncertain, his gaze falls to the desk, how closely they pressed to its seam.

He presses them back, peering down curiously to see their cock enveloped in the mouth of a soft elf, their pale skin tinged pink, a soft unique marking. He suddenly recognizes them, the scribe boy they always had at their side, younger than their own son. 

His gaze rests on the scene, careful not to shift his expression as he watches with rapt attention. "Continue then." He hums as distant words, no note of intrigue, flat, careful, practiced. He watches the man tense, nails diggin into the dark wood desk. He slides his hand over one of theirs, the other smoothing over their shoulder, resting on their back, smoothing small circles, encouraging them silent as he watches that stern expression flush, fall into heated pants, puffs of breath. He can tell their getting close by the hitch of their body, the way their hand tense in his. Their body stiffens, breath completely ceasing, he cranes his head over to watch them spill in down the half-elf's throat, thighs struggling not to tighten around the half-elf's head, quivering instead until they slowly go lax. Alexius gentle works his thumb along the back of their neck until the aftershocks settle, their breath still ragged, their eyes blissfully lidded in a way that leaves him _hungry_.

He pulls back slowly, touch linger on their hand, straightening himself as he moves around the desk to his seat. Settling with hands laced loosely over stomach. He gives them a moment to breathe. 

"So you were saying?" He smiles in that pleasantly disarming way and delights in the deep flush the crawls up their face, how their adjust and widen ever slightly out their control as they realize he's still here, and he expects them to continue.


End file.
